


The Time-Lord and the Temp - The Veil

by TheAllonsyGirl



Series: The Time-Lord And The Temp [3]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Awesome Donna Noble, Episode: 2006 Xmas The Runaway Bride, F/M, Fix-It, Tenth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:16:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3101564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllonsyGirl/pseuds/TheAllonsyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor had landed in Chiswick, by mistake of course. He had not anticipated, that finding a young woman's wedding veil, would account for so much, in so little time. Donna is running away from her wedding, but will she go back? Would she have stayed with the Doctor there and then, had things been different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time-Lord and the Temp - The Veil

The latch upon the interior of the TARDIS door, had become stuck again, and the Doctor grumbled outwardly, his head falling back in his frustration. He wiggled at it, and after a beam of light from his sonic screwdriver, it opened. He noticed a subtle tearing sound as the door opened, and his brows knitted together in curiosity. He reached a slender hand out of the door, and grappled for whatever had caused the discrepancy. The rich, soft tulle billowed in the moderate breeze, slipping across his fingers like the delicate wisps of smoke that emanated from a coal fire. The frayed ends of the fabric, severed from being caught in the vice-grip of the door jamb, twitched at the touch. A wedding veil he thought to himself, and attempted to fold the material loosely, to bundle into his vast and varied closet; it was sure to serve a purpose one day, he had no doubt. He looked around the street which he'd landed on and sighed. Chiswick he shook his head and looked up at the TARDIS;

"I said Cardiff," he shouted through the doors, his tone was not angry, but merely bemused. The console groaned softly, as if in response to his statement. He looked around at the busy streets, and as he looked away, his head whipped back. He saw a woman marching towards him; her hair as red Gallifrey sand, her face modestly attractive, probably more so when she wasn't scowling. She held up the skirt of her ivory dress and continued in her beeline towards the Doctor;

"OI! You! Is that my veil?" she screeched, pointing angrily with her left hand. The Doctor looked down at his hand, which held the bundle of white tulle, then back up to the woman, whose face was now merely inches away from his. 

"Uh, oh, yes, well I suppose it must be," he nodded and held it out to her, a little nervous of her reaction. She reached out to snatch it, and the Doctor pulled his hand back;

"Just one small problem, well you see--," he barely got past his formalities before she interrupted him;

"Oh give it a rest," she snapped and tugged the veil from his grasp. She unravelled it, and when she spotted the very obvious tears in the expensive fabric, she glowered at him;

"You TORE, my veil? My WEDDING veil?!" she squawked at him, gesturing wildly. The Doctor shook his head;

"No! Well, not really. The wind blew it up against my...box, and it got caught in the doo--" once again, his words fell upon deaf ears, and he recoiled, as an unexpected, yet very real slap, landed on his cheek. He rubbed his cheek, the stinging, red patch spreading. A few passers-by looked over as they walked past, indulging in their daily idle gossip;

"Now hang on a minute!" he tried to reason, but of course, this flame-haired girl, was in no mood to listen. She put her hands on her hips and deepened her glower;

"Do you have any IDEA how much this cost?" her voice carried and ricocheted off the brick walls that surrounded them. The Doctor gaped a little like a fish out of water, and shook his head silently. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her up and down, the blue light gliding down the satin drape of her dress; definitely human. 

"Oi! Stop bleeping me with that thing! You and your probe, had better get out of my sight," her eyes narrowed into a further glare, and the Doctor edged back a little, if only to avoid another slap. He swallowed thickly and held his hand out;

"I'm the Doctor, and you are?" he grinned, his composure back intact, and she looked at him as if he was alien, ironically. She stared at his hand, not quite able to believe the audacity of his demeanour, but she placed her hand in his, shaking it stiffly;

"Donna. Donna Noble," she sounded bored as she introduced herself, as if the very mention of her existence annoyed and bored her at the same time.

"Well! Nice to meet you Donna Noble! N ow, I don't have to explain all of this properly, but I can take you back in time, and get you to your wedding on time," he grinned in a way Donna found both charming and irritating at the same time.

"Are you on something?" Donna arched a skeptical eyebrow and tapped her temple to imply his weakened state of mind. He sighed in exasperation, and pushed open the TARDIS door;

"Come on, I'll show you," he attempted to pull her wrist in a guiding motion, but she snapped it back from his slender fingers. 

"Oh no you don't! I'm not getting in some box with you!" she snapped and edged backwards. The Doctor rubbed his face, his patience wearing a little thin by this point. 

"I'm a Time-Lord. I can travel in time and space. Anywhere, anytime, and you can believe me or not, but I have to go. If you want to be late, then off you go," he gestured wildly away from her, and bounded into the TARDIS. He closed the door, and from the other side, began to silently mouth numbers, his eyes rolled upwards, down from twenty. 

Donna looked at the large blue box, walking around the outside of it, running her fingers across the panelled wood. It's a bloody old Police box! Granddad said they were all over the place years ago. Donna mused to herself, before pushing the door open gingerly, and poking her head around the door. Her blue eyes widened at the vastness of what she saw. The Doctor had just reached zero in his muted countdown, as she looked around the door. A small smile crept into his face; he was almost arrogant in his gesture of folding his arms. 

She withdrew herself from the box to check the outside again, running round and round, knocking on the wood, until eventually she reached the doorway again. She put one tentative foot onto the corrugated metal floor, then the other, stepping into something she thought only existed in the mind of a potent LSD trip. 

"It's...it's bigger on the inside," she gasped, looking at the Doctor in awe. He pretended to look shocked himself, and replied;

"Is it really? I hadn't noticed," he pushed his tongue up behind his top teeth, and grinned; Donna rolled her eyes at him, and walked further inside, and up to the console.  
"What does this do?" she pushed a button, and the Doctor darted over to where she stood;

"No, no, no! Don't touch!" he chastised her, as a parent would a small child who had reached up to touch a hot pan. She pulled her hand away and rolled her eyes again;

"Alright, keep your hair on," she huffed, and looked around her once again. She looked the Doctor up and down, she found him rather odd, in his brown suit with pale blue pin stripes, huge beige over-coat that almost touched his calves, and casual Converse style shoes, the white now marred with grey dirt and wear. She took in his squared jaw, thin-lipped and cheeky smile, and deep brown eyes, a glint of mirth and mischief resided within them. His hair was impossibly both perfectly styled and casually tousled; in other circumstances she may have even found him prepossessing, but in these circumstances, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was somewhat beguiling. 

"So what is this? How did you do it, hmm?" she looked at him, expecting him to reveal some kind of trickery. 

"I told you; I'm a Time-Lord. This is my space ship," she marvelled at the way he spoke of such bizarre things as if they were normal.

"You're telling me you're an alien?" she arched her eyebrow and looked him up and down. He nodded and crossed one foot over the other. 

"Is that a problem?" he cocked to his head to one side, analysing her reaction. She looked at him for a moment, as if considering his proposal, and she shrugged nonchalantly;

"What do I care?" she flopped down onto the metal-rimmed couch by the console, and threw the tatters of her veil onto the console. The Doctor tutted and picked up the white mass, laying in underneath the console, in a very specific place. Donna didn't look the least bit interested in keeping things orderly.

"Right! Let's get you to your wedding!" he bounded animatedly to the console's mainframe and looked across at his red-headed guest. She looked back at him, pausing a moment before she answered;

"Yeah, yeah obviously, it's not like I want to stay here with you," she had been unable to hide it from the perceptive Doctor's vision; he had felt that slight unease in her gaze, the silence of that small beat of pause, screaming the truth. She wasn't angry with him because she was desperate to get back to her wedding, she was angry because she had been running away from her wedding, of her own accord. 

"Cold feet?" he said simply, her head whipped up in surprise;

"What? NO! Of course not, why would I? I love Lance," she herself, realised she'd protested too much. The Doctor raised a curious, yet non-judgmental eyebrow and walked over to where Donna had placed herself, his hand tentatively on her shoulder;

"Donna," was all he uttered, but it was all he needed to say;

"Oh alright. Fine, I was running away from my wedding. Are you happy now, Martian boy?" she snapped and folded her arms. He rolled his eyes;

"I'm-I'm not from Mars," he paused and crouched down beside her;

"So, what's wrong with him?" he realised he was prying, but he felt compelled to help her.

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong with him; he's a lovely man. He's just so," she held her hands up as if trying to pluck the appropriate word from the air, and eventually gave up;

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed and turned her head away. The Doctor gave it a go;

"Safe? Boring? Dull? He's not abusive is he?" he frowned and looked up at her.

"No, no never. Maybe that's it. There's just no excitement there anymore, I...I have to go back. I made a commitment to him, I suppose I should--" the Doctor interrupted;

"Hang on, hang on, hang on; are you considering marrying a man you don't really love? As noble as that is, if you pardon the pun," she smiled a little at his bad attempt at a joke;

"It's not right. You should tell him, though. Come on, I'll show you how this thing works," his manic grin was back, and he zipped about pressing buttons and turning switches, and Donna watched him curiously; he truly was the most absurd man she'd ever met. 

"Hold on tight!" he winked and pulled a switch nearest to him; she yelped and grabbed onto a railing as he came tumbling into her. It was a bumpy ride, but it didn't last as long as she'd anticipated. She stood up and stumbled slightly, and she felt two hands hold her arms to steady her. She felt her equilibrium shudder, and she swallowed the impending wave of nausea that threatened to overcome her. 

"You okay there?" the Doctor released his hands, but held them close enough to catch her, should she fall. She simply nodded and he returned a confirmation nod. He held out his hand, and awaited her response. She placed her hand in his, albeit a little begrudgingly, and he opened up the TARDIS door. They stepped out of the blue box, and Donna was amazed; there she was outside the church she was supposed to be stood in at this moment, pledging forever to a man who was none the wiser to her plight. 

A small, short-haired woman with blonde hair and an angry scowl on her face, was charging over to them, the Doctor edged back towards the TARDIS, hoping she wouldn't notice him. He knew from the instant he saw her, that this was Donna's mother; they shared the same angry warpath march. 

"There's our runaway bride! We were starting to thing you weren't coming. That's just typical of you isn't it, Donna? Always late, not even bothered, and who's this?" she pointed an accusatory finger at the Doctor, who froze where he stood.

"That's...the Doctor," she shifted her gaze to the tall, slender figure and back to her mother.

"And what is he doing with you?" she eyed the Doctor up and down suspiciously, and Donna started towards the church;

"I need to speak to Lance. Where is he?" she asked, as her mother trotted along in her pastel peach high-heeled shoes;

"He's stood at the end of that aisle waiting for you, although I have no clue as to why, at this point," Donna did not recoil at the bite of her mother's words, because she was used to it; she merely bit her tongue and continued walking. The Doctor, however, contorted his face into a mask of horror, hearing Donna's mother belittle her in such a way. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket, and leaned against the TARDIS door. Sylvia Noble sporadically looked behind her, at the Doctor, as she ushered her daughter into the church, and from what the Doctor could see, she was still berating her. 

He must have waited only a mere twenty minutes outside the Berrymead Gardens church, but as his eyes wandered over statues which had been slowly smothered with moss and debrided by greenish weathering, he had assumed it to be longer. He was only distracted from his reverie, by a whirlwind of white material, red hair, and sniffling, followed by the slamming of his TARDIS door. He shook off his daydream, and pulled open the door. He was tentative in his approach, as he was unsure of how to react to such virile human suffering. He pitied her, that was one thing he knew, but he was unsure as to what she would allow a stranger to do for her. Her head was bowed and buried by her arms, her quiet, plaintive sobbing caused a distinctive pull in his hearts, and his urge to protect her grew. 

He approached her, at first placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder, squeezing it in a comforting way. Donna remained unmoving, and he took this to mean that she didn't mind his nearby presence. He rubbed her back in small, soothing circles, remaining silent, until she wished otherwise. She lifted her head wearily and peeked out from her tide of auburn hair, her eyes red-rimmed and a little puffy, her make up leaving little webs of grey, that marred her otherwise flawless skin. He looked at her, his hand still upon her back, between her shoulder blades. She shook it off and he put it back into his lap.

"You must think I'm a right nutter," she mumbled, snivelling. The Doctor fished around in his pocket for a handkerchief, and held it out to her. She took it, and dabbed her eyes, blowing her nose, and crumpling up the material in her hands. She sniffed and looked up at him;  
"I don't think that," she replied, earnestly, and he placed a gentle hand upon hers;

"I think you're a vulnerable person, who had to make a hard decision. Oh Donna Noble, you're so very human," he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand and she blinked back a few tears;

"There's nothing all that great about being human," she pouted and wiped her eyes again. The Doctor laughed simply and sat next to her;

"Oh Donna, you're wrong. I think you're all so marvellous. You're so resilient; you last and last and last, in some capacity or another," he smiled fondly, and stood up, his mind suddenly focused on something else. He bent down, and gently picked up her veil, which shone for a second with a luminescent, amber glow. He shook it, and a little loose dust cascaded from the tulle folds. 

"Here you go," the Doctor smiled, and held it delicately out to Donna, who shrugged;

"It's torn, and anyway, what use is it to me now?" her voice was softer than before, it caught a little in her throat as she spoke. The Doctor held up the veil, and revealed that it was now immaculate and whole, once more.

"How did you--" she began to ask, but she was interrupted before she could complete her question;

"Residual huon energy. The TARDIS is buzzing with it. It is used for regeneration; I can regenerate, instead of die, well the TARDIS can do it too," his speech was rapid, and his words tripped over one another, in their hurry to be heard. Donna's eyebrows knitted together;  
"So, you can live forever?" she mused, half to herself, half to him.

"Well, provided I get time between being injured or incapacitated to channel my energy, and rewrite every single cell in my body," he spoke of such absurdity, and to Donna, it was strange and dizzying, but she was nothing if not curious, by the Doctor, and his impossible way of being. 

"Right...Right, I'd better," she gestured towards the door, and stood up from where she'd been sitting.

"Oh...right, yeah, I uh....I could take you home, you know, if you like," he attempted to stall her, his mind working at a million miles an hour, with a plethora of thoughts intertwining around his cerebral cortex 

"No it's....I can walk, it's, it's not far," she took ten or so paces to the door, and opened it, pausing for a moment, as if in two minds;

"You said you can travel in time and space? Can you really go anywhere/" she asked him, her eyes narrowed. He smiled, and saw a window of opportunity;

"Oh yes! Anywhere. I can show you anything that's ever been, is currently happening, or ever will be. I can show you planets with seven suns, fifty moons, apple grass, zeppelins, all creatures great and small. It's such a mad universe out there Donna; come with me," he grinned, and pushed his tongue up against his top teeth, a cheeky glint in his whiskey coloured eyes. She hovered by the door and a small smile crept onto her face;

"Oh why the hell not?" she beamed and threw her veil across the railing, running back towards this man she had only just met, but whom she was now running away with;

"But no funny business, do you hear me?" she pointed a cautioning finger at him. He held his hands up innocently;

"What do you take me for?" he winked and reached out to press down a lever, her hand was already there, and his smile grew;

"Allons-y, Donna Noble!" he slammed the lever down and the TARDIS jolted them backwards. They reached out for railings, chairs, the console, each other, anything to keep themselves steady. The Doctor looked at his new companion, his arms around her shoulders, keeping her steady, and he smiled. For the first time in forever, it was a genuine smile,and it was requited, by his new companion. In the turbulence of the journey, Donna's veil had wound itself up around a nearby rail, and a small plume of yellow dust, danced upon its surface, before gliding through the air. Donna breathed in the yellow wisp, and spluttered, as it tickled her throat. The Doctor frowned and patted her back softly; she waved him off and pulled herself up to stand.

As the TARDIS juddered to a stop, she looked at the doors, itching to open them, desperate to see a new and exciting world. She felt a warming in her chest, and she placed a hand to it, thinking little of it. Neither she, or the Doctor had noticed the tiniest part of the TARDIS' essence, implanting itself, secretly hiding inside of her, and nor would they discover it, until it was too late.


End file.
